Behind The Reflection
by Tears of Stardust
Summary: A story from Elena's point of view after Meteor hits, she ponders what is left after Tseng is gone.


Behind the Reflection   
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for the idea for my story.   
  
I got the idea for this story while listening to All Coming Back by Celine Dion, so don't blame me if it's overly sappy :p   
  
The soft sand of Costa de Sol swallowed her toes as she walked along the beach. It was now about midnight; Elena had left the boisterous Reno and the silent Rude at the bar hours before, not wanting to have to listen to another of their 'cheery' renditions of classic songs.   
  
A light breeze was blowing from the north, causing Elena's short blonde hair to ruffle in the wind. She had been walking for what seemed like hours, the breeze her only companion, and her confidant.   
  
"I miss him," she whispered into the wind, hoping it would carry her voice to wherever he was. Hell, it didn't even have to reach him; if it would only reach the ears of someone who understood, someone who could help relieve her of this terrible pain.   
  
Tseng haunted her every moment. She saw his liquid brown eyes in her coffee, his smile reflected on those around her, his loving arms in the wind.   
  
Perhaps that was why she confided in the wind; somewhere deep inside herself she felt that he iwas/i the wind. The thought comforted her; it seemed that wherever her travels took her, she had never been to a land that was void of a breath of wind.   
  
Her travels . . . she was lying to herself and she knew it. She was only tagging along behind Reno and Rude as they were sent on odd-jobs from Reeve. It seemed that there wasn't much in the future of the Turks, as they spent most of their days at the bar in Costa de Sol. Elena was never one to refuse a friendly drink and could hold her liquor with the best of them, but there was   
something unappealing in getting herself drunk everyday then waking up the next morning with a bitch of a hangover.   
  
Elena stopped walking and surveyed her surroundings, realizing that she had no idea where she was. She didn't care though; if she happened upon a pack of Beachplugs she had her trusty revolver ready.   
  
She dropped the shoes she was carrying, listening to the soft plops as brown suede met sand. Then she held her arms out as if to embrace the sky, and fell back into the sand.   
  
She opened her eyes and gazed at the stars, revelling in their celestial beauty. i Remember Elena, one of those stars almost destroyed the planet,/i her consciousness whispered to her. But how could she forget? The horror of running from the multiple tornadoes that had ravaged Midgar; staring Meteor dead in the face and seeing it almost grin down at them; Holy's white light becoming a catalyst for Meteor, sending the fear of doom deeply into even the most fearless man's heart. But then there was the silky Lifestream, the planet using itself to prevent it's own destruction.   
  
Elena had never paused to wonder at the time, but she did now: was Tseng there as well, helping to save the planet from Meteor? Did he want to protect the planet, the Turks, or perhaps even herself?   
  
"Tseng, please, I want you here," Elena pleaded softly with the night sky, "I want to hear your voice, to see you again, if only for a moment." Then, lowering her voice an octave, "I need you."   
  
Suddenly, a comet went streaking across the sky, it's tail spanning several kilometres of the night sky before winking out of sight, leaving no trace that it had ever been there.   
  
"But it iwas/i there," Elena whispered, "It left it's mark on me, and no matter what people say, I know it existed."   
  
It occurred to her then that her story, so intricately entwined with Avalanche's, might go down in history. Tseng might be little more than a myth one hundred years from now.   
  
Elena hung her head and let the tears that were threatened to spill, fall; tracing rivulets of water down her cheeks and washing away the dust from her late-night excursion.   
  
"If only my hands were so easily cleaned," Elena muttered, looking at her callused hands. But in her eyes, they were not callused. Rather, they were stained with blood; blood from all those who had died or been caused pain by her hands.   
  
"What have I done . . . ?" Elena asked herself before she totally broke down, sobbing her misery to the wind. Soon, she feel asleep from her emotional breakdown, dreaming of Tseng and herself, and a place she had tried all her life to reach, but never would . . .   
  
  
center~Fin~/center 


End file.
